An Unexpected Song
by BAFan
Summary: Sequel to "The Power of Love." Angel tells Buffy what he's just learned about his curse.
1. Chapter 1

**AN UNEXPECTED SONG, Chapter 1**

**(Sequel to "The Power Of Love")**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon, MutantEnemy, etc.**

**SUMMARY: Buffy's in the hospital, following her return from near-death. Angel is about to learn that when Willow re-souled him (episode "Becoming 2") the curse she used didn't contain the true happiness clause.**

**A/N: This takes place in the spring of 2001, two years after Angel left Sunnydale. It's set in an alternate timeline from the shows, so none of the events of Season 5/Season 2 have happened. There is no Dawn, Joyce isn't ill, Darla wasn't brought back by Wolfram & Hart, etc. **

**A/N2: The song below is "An Unexpected Song" from the show "Song & Dance" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. It doesn't really have anything to do with this story; I just love this song for its beautiful melody, and to me the lyrics set the mood for the whole Buffy/Angel saga. **

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

_I have never felt like this_  
_For once I'm lost for words_  
_Your smile has really thrown me_

_This is not like me at all_  
_I never thought I'd know_  
_The kind of love you've shown me_

_Now, no matter where I am, no matter what I do_  
_I see your face appearing,_  
_Like an unexpected song,_  
_An unexpected song_  
_That only we are hearing_

_I don't know what's going on,_  
_Can't work it out at all_  
_Whatever made you choose me?_

_I just can't believe my eyes_  
_You look at me as though_  
_You couldn't bear to lose me_

_Now, no matter where I am, no matter what I do_  
_I see your face appearing,_  
_Like an unexpected song,_  
_An unexpected song_  
_That only we are hearing_

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

"Are you positive?"

Giles's intent to inform Buffy about the curse had met with a snag. Joyce had intercepted the good news gang at the door to her room and flatly refused to let them interrupt Buffy's rest.

"She's asleep and this time she's going to stay asleep. Whatever it is - I don't care if the world is coming to an end again - it can wait. She's had a very difficult morning, not to mention the last two weeks, and she needs to rest."

In the face of this maternal declaration they were forced to admit defeat. Rather disconsolately they trooped outside the hospital, where they gathered together in a discouraged huddle.

"Now what?" Xander wanted to know. "Here we are, all agog with exciting news and no one to hear it."

Willow opened her mouth but Giles beat her to it. "Now we go tell Angel. He has even more right than Buffy to hear it immediately. After all," he added drily, "it's his curse."

Now Giles and Willow sat in the kitchen of Angel's old home, looking across a small table at the vampire. Xander and Tara had declared their presences not necessary and possibly even unwelcome, at least in Xander's case, so it was just the two of them who told Angel what Tara's researches had uncovered. Groggy when they first arrived, and a touch miffed at having been awakened when he'd only just fallen asleep, Angel quickly became alert upon hearing their tidings.

"As positive as we can be without having actually been present at the first, er, incident," Giles said now. He handed Angel the printed sheets. "But take a look yourself. You know Latin and probably Rumanian too, since you spent so many years there."

Angel raised his eyebrows in a doubtful gesture. "That was a very long time ago," he reminded Giles, but took a look at the pages anyway. His brows instantly rose again. "Latin, Rumanian, _and _Romany? That's unusual."

"Extremely," Giles agreed. "I can only imagine it was a safety measure. If the curse fell into non-Romany hands it would be more difficult to translate, and therefore more difficult to use."

Angel continued to scan the printouts, his dark eyes traveling between the original and Professor Lowesky's translation. Finally he looked up. "I'm a bit rusty, but what I've been able to make out seems to support your theory that this isn't the curse that was originally set on me. There doesn't appear to be any specific mention of happiness, only references to guilt and remorse and suffering."

"It's not just my theory," Giles reminded him. "It's also Professor Lowesky's."

Leaving the copies on the table, Angel got up and strode about the room, hands in pockets. "I've heard of her. She's supposed to be very good."

"She's the best," corrected Giles firmly. "I would stake my life on the accuracy of anything she translated."

Angel stopped his restless pacing and looked at him. "What about Buffy's life?"

There was sudden silence, broken a minute later by Willow. "That's not Giles's decision to make. It's Buffy's."

"And mine," returned Angel, with a steady gaze at the young woman.

Willow nodded. "And yours," she agreed.

Angel returned to the table and stood there, studying the copies yet again.

Willow fidgeted, biting her lip. "I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "I should have realized it wasn't the same curse. You and Buffy could have been together this whole time instead of being apart and lonely and, and miserable. It's all my fault." Tears stood in her eyes.

"That isn't true," Giles said quickly. "Willow, you're not a Latin scholar. I am. If anyone should have picked up on the differences, it was me." He passed his hand over his face. "It simply never occurred to me that the one Jenny found might be a different curse."

"Why should it?" Angel didn't look up from his perusal. "There can't be that many curses around that recall souls to their bodies. Besides, it's not like you didn't have plenty of other things on your mind at the time."

_Like Jenny's death. Like me trying to wake Acathla so he could pull every living soul on earth into hell. Like Xander and Willow getting hurt when Dru kidnapped Giles so I could torture him. Like Dru killing Kendra and Buffy being suspected of her murder by the police._

The heaviness in Angel's voice brought Giles' head up. He and Willow exchanged disturbed glances. "Angel, that wasn't you," Giles said quietly, leaning forward. "We know that and so do you."

"Wasn't it?" Angel's head was still down, his voice muffled. "I remember it all, every last detail. Every thought, every word . . . every deed."

"Those are the demon's memories, not yours," Willow declared earnestly. "Angel, you have a conscience, and unlike a lot of mortal-type people you do let yours be your guide. You know you would never do the things he did."

After a moment Angel raised his head and gave her a little sideways smile. He straightened. "Thanks. You're right. It's just - sometimes it's hard to remember that, when I can still hear the screams in my head."

Not giving them time to react to that statement he went on, "And, Willow, don't blame yourself for not spotting that the curse was different - you either, Giles. I don't blame you and neither will Buffy. Besides, what's done is done and we just have to live with it. Time can't be turned back - not by us lower beings, anyway."

He noticed the sudden interest in Giles' gaze, and cursed under his breath, suddenly realizing what he'd said.

"No," Giles said, holding his gaze, "temporal folds would be the business of the Powers That Be." Angel watched warily as he crossed the distance between them and continued smoothly, "If there were such a thing, that is; which of course there isn't."

"Temporal folds?" asked Willow, curious. "What's that?"

Releasing Angel's gaze, Giles glanced at Willow. "Oh, it's a phrase I ran across some time ago while reading. It's just a fancy term for, well, for turning back time." Willow nodded, satisfied, and Giles cocked his head at Angel.

Speaking softly so Willow couldn't hear, he said, "I found it many years ago while reading the diary of Kwan Li, a former Watcher who was Head of the Council in the late eighteen hundreds. It intrigued me, so I researched further and discovered an entry in the Council records from 1813. It stated that beings called the Oracles had been appealed to and had agreed, although very reluctantly, to 'take back the days' - in this case 52 hours during which the Council headquarters had been overrun by demons and many Watchers killed."

"Really," Angel said, deliberately noncommital.

"Yes. Really," Giles nodded. "The entry was initialed by every member of the Inner Council, because of course once time was turned back no one would remember it. Except for two people, that is - the Head of the Council and his next in command. They alone retained the memory of what had happened before."

Angel's jaw tightened involuntarily. _(Buffy, sobbing, "I'll never forget; I'll never forget, I'll never forget. . . .")_ Swallowing, he threw off the bitter memory, and said, with only slight huskiness, "That makes sense, I guess. Someone has to remember, otherwise events would simply repeat themselves."

Giles gave him another searching look. Inexplicably his eyes softened, and Angel wondered just how much the astute ex-Watcher had guessed. Giles nodded once, compassionately, before turning to Willow. "We should let Angel get back to his rest, Willow."

While Angel smiled wryly at the notion of being able to sleep after receiving news like this, the young woman rose to her feet. "Angel, do you want us to tell Buffy about the curse?" she asked him as she slung her purse strap over her shoulder.

"No," Angel replied at once. "I'll tell her tonight." Then, as Willow looked at him doubtfully, he smiled. "I will tell her; I promise."

"See that you do," Giles said, only half-joking. "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if you didn't, and she found out."

Angel chuckled ruefully. "You're right. I'm already in trouble for not telling her about the _Shanshu_ prophecy.

"What's a shashu prophecy?" Willow wanted to know.

_"Shan-shu,"_ Giles corrected her. "I'll explain on the way home." Then he paused. "That is, if that's all right with you, Angel."

Angel shrugged. "Sure; why not? There's no real reason to keep it a secret anymore."

Giles looked back from the doorway. Angel had resumed studying the copies on the table, as if further perusal might uncover even more secrets. The fact that he hadn't seen them to the door indicated how completely their news had overwhelmed him, for Angel was normally punctilious about small courtesies like that. Not that Giles minded. Angel had just received the equivalent of a knockout punch to the head; it was only to be expected that he wouldn't be thinking clearly for a while.

Angel didn't even hear the door close. He stared at the papers but the print was only a blur. His mind was in a whirl. In the space of maybe fifteen minutes his world had been turned upside down.

_No loophole . . . my soul is secure . . . it wasn't the same curse . . . Buffy . . . we can be together . . . How?. . . She can't leave Sunnydale . . . she's the Slayer . . . they need her here . . . maybe I could move back . . . but how can I leave L.A.? . . . I'm needed there . . . I'm helping people . . ._

_. . . No loophole . . . we can make love . . . God . . . I love her so much . . . Could we make it work this time?. . . I've changed . . . she's changed too . . . My soul is safe . . ._

_. . . Buffy . . . together. . . ._

He sank into a chair, staring blindly in front of him.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Angel paused in the open doorway to Buffy's hospital room. Buffy was sleeping, and he watched her in silence, drinking in the sight of her. She was obviously feeling better, for her hair was clean now, falling loosely around her shoulders, which meant she'd taken a shower. Also, her face had more color in it, which went a long way toward dispelling the wraithlike appearance of the night before and made her look more like the girl he remembered.

Or maybe he was just seeing her with new eyes since learning that the main obstacle that had kept them apart for three years no longer existed. A lingering aroma of food made him sniff questioningly.

_Hamburgers?_

"She insisted that she was starving for a Big Mac." Speaking in a low murmur, Joyce got up from the chair by the window where she'd been going through her mail, and came over. "So Xander brought her two of them, also a giant vanilla shake and the biggest order of fries I've ever seen. Even before the accident, Buffy couldn't have eaten half that much."

Angel smiled. "Why do I get the feeling that Xander wasn't being completely altruistic by bringing all that food?"

Joyce chuckled softly. "Because you know Xander. He ended up eating everything Buffy didn't." Then she grew serious. Checking to make sure Buffy was still asleep, she said, "Giles told me about the curse, and I'm so happy for you, Angel. And relieved."

"Thank you. So am I," Angel replied, although in fact he still wasn't sure just what exactly he _was_ feeling. He never had got back to sleep, and a whole day's worth of ruminations had only clarified the fact of his uncertainty.

Joyce studied him. "It changes everything, doesn't it?" she said compassionately.

"Everything," he agreed. "Even the way I look at her. I'm not sure I've really taken it in yet," he suddenly added - much to his own surprise, since he wasn't the confiding type usually. Not with Buffy's mother, at least.

Joyce's smile conveyed understanding. "Big shocks like that usually do take a while to sink in, whether they're good or bad. I'm sure Buffy will do her best to help you with the process."

Her eyes twinkled and the smile grew briefly mischievous. "Well, I'll leave you two alone, but I'll be back around nine-thirty to say good-night to Buffy before I go home. Oh, I almost forgot."

She reached into her jacket pocket. "This fell off Buffy's finger while she was sleeping. Since she wasn't wearing any rings before your visit, I assume you gave it to her?" At Angel's nod she handed the claddagh ring to him. "See you later, Angel." Stuffing the mail into her purse, she left.

"Thank you." Then Angel remembered his manners and belatedly called after her, "Oh, good-night." Already several doors away, Buffy's mother smiled over her shoulder, acknowledging his words with a small wave. Then she turned the corner and was gone.

Angel came into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He retrieved the chair from its position by the window and placed it next to the bed, close enough that he could touch Buffy easily, then took off his jacket and hung it over the back. As he seated himself, however, she spoke. "Hey." Her eyes opened, regarded him sleepily.

"Hey," he replied, taken aback. He'd actually been hoping that she'd sleep a bit longer, postponing the moment he was half-dreading, half-longing for. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Buffy yawned. "Yeah, but that's all right. I feel like I've slept all day; it's time I stayed awake for a while." She pressed a button on the control switch pinned to her sheet, and the head of the bed began rising.

"Besides, I'd much rather talk to you." She rearranged her pillow behind her on the now upright mattress and regarded him. "Thank you for not leaving."

"You don't have to thank me; I wanted to stay."

"But you wouldn't have, if I hadn't asked you to." It wasn't a question.

Angel glanced away. "I don't know," he admitted. "How are you doing?" Changing the subject.

"Okay, I guess," she said quietly. "Considering that I came _this_ close to dying and survived, only to metaphorically stab my boyfriend in the heart by telling him I didn't really love him. Considering that I still can't be with the person I do love because it's too dangerous for us to be together."

Angel cleared his throat. "Actually, I meant physically. Have you had any headaches or - anything?"

The Buffy he remembered would have looked discomfited, at least, and made some embarrassed remark about pushing the rewind button, but to Angel's surprise she did neither.

Instead she smiled a little and said, "Not ready to face the real stuff, Angel? Okay. Let's see, physically I'm doing good. I took a shower when I woke up again this morning - over the doctor's strenuous objections, I might add - and got my hair clean at least, although it won't make the cover of _Cosmo._ I haven't decided what to do about this partial Sinead, though."

"Sinead?" Angel was lost. Buffy elaborated. "Sinead O'Connor? Irish singer who went the almost-bald route a few years ago?"

"Oh, yes." Angel had vague memories of seeing pictures of a beautiful young woman with hair clipped as close to the skull as it could be without being actually shaved. Then he did a double-take. "You're thinking of cutting your hair?"

Both shoulders went up in a shrug. "I don't think I have a choice. It's going to look pretty weird if I don't. Unless of course I decide to go for the Cyndi Lauper look." As he started to ask, she waved her hand dismissively. "A pop star. Never mind the details; I was only kidding anyway. As I said, I'm feeling pretty good, physically. In fact, I intend to leave the hospital tomorrow."

Angel smiled. "What did the doctor say about _that?"_

Her mischievous grin flashed out. "Just what you'd expect. 'Miss Summers, you really should stay until we can run more tests.' "

She shrugged. "No way. I want to get out of here. There's nothing wrong with me that another night's rest and a few decent meals and a little exercise won't fix. Physically, that is. Emotionally - well, that's another matter."

That was his cue if ever he'd heard one. Angel took a deep breath and just blurted it out. "Buffy . . . Willow and Giles came to me today with some news. Tara discovered that the curse that Willow performed on me - you know, when I was trying to wake Acathla - "

Her eyes clouding with remembered pain, Buffy nodded. Angel hurried on. "Well, it seems that it, uh - "

He took another deep breath. "It didn't contain the happiness clause that endangers my soul."

Uncomprehending silence. Buffy's brow creased. "But . . . how? I mean, it had to. It's the curse that Ms. Calendar found, the one her clan cursed you with way back -"

"No," Angel interrupted. "It's different."

"What? How could it be different? There's more than one re-souling curse?"

Angel spoke carefully. "It appears that the Kalderash took an ancient, traditional Romany curse and . . . changed it, to meet their own requirements for vengeance. They took out the time limit that was set into the traditional one, and added the moment of true happiness part."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

END OF CHAPTER 1


	2. Chapter 2

**AN UNEXPECTED SONG, Chapter 2**

**(sequel to "The Power Of Love")**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon, MutantEnemy, etc.**

**SUMMARY: Buffy's in the hospital, following her return from near-death. Angel has just told her that when Willow re-souled him ("Becoming 2") the curse she used didn't contain the true happiness clause. **

**A/N: This takes place in the spring of 2001, two years after Angel left Sunnydale. It's set in an alternate timeline from the shows, so none of the events of Season 5/Season 2 have happened. There is no Dawn, Joyce isn't ill, Darla wasn't brought back by Wolfram & Hart, etc. **

**A/N2: A big "thank you" to Ashes at Midnight for pointing out something I'd completely overlooked regarding Angel's curse. I've done my best to fix it.**

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

There was a long silence while Buffy stared at him. Finally, she cleared her throat. "So . . . the one Ms. Calendar found was the traditional curse, not the changed one?" Buffy also spoke carefully, needing to be sure she understood. Angel nodded. "And that's the same one that Willow used to re-soul you three years ago?"

"Yes."

"So . . . your soul is safe. It's been safe the whole time."

Angel just looked at her without speaking. What was there to say, after all? It was the truth, bitter as that knowledge was.

"So all of this could have been avoided?" Distraught, Buffy jumped up and began pacing around the room. Joyce, or someone, had brought her a replacement for the hospital gown, and Angel was distracted by the motion of her breasts beneath the pale blue top. Reflexively, out of long habit, he started to push the thought away, then stopped in stunned realization.

His soul was safe. There was no reason now for him to avoid noticing how the outline of her nipples showed through the thin fabric, or how incredibly beautiful she was, even with a portion of her hair clipped to a stubbly patch. He could make love to her right now, this minute, without consequences - at least not of the soul-losing kind.

"Riley," she continued. "Parker. . . ."

Angel blinked, coming back to the moment. Parker? Who was Parker? Buffy swung around to face him, and again he noticed the enticing sway of her breasts. "None of it ever needed to happen. You didn't need to leave Sunnydale in the first place."

"Wait." Focused again, Angel held up a hand. "Buffy, I didn't leave Sunnydale because of the risk to my soul. I left because I thought you could find a more normal life without me, and just maybe that would increase your chances of living past twenty-five."

"Huh?" Momentarily diverted from her lament, Buffy waited for enlightenment, so Angel explained his theory of Slayer Early Death Syndrome as he'd told it to Giles and Joyce the night before. "I hoped that a normal relationship would give you a better support group, with added security and . . . stability," he finished.

"And it never occurred to you that the biggest part of that support group was you? Your backup, your encouragement . . . your love?" Her gaze was unblinking and slightly incredulous.

"No," Angel replied, simply. "Buffy, ever since I've known you, you've fought tooth and nail to have a normal life despite being the Slayer. You tried out for cheerleader when Giles forbade you to; you insisted on your right to have dates, go to parties . . . do I need to go on?"

"I also told you that you were the only thing in my freaky world that made sense. Obviously you didn't believe me," she said sadly.

Angel was silent. It was true; he hadn't believed her - or not completely.

Buffy sat on the edge of the bed. "In fact," she continued, studying him with a frown, "you've never really believed that I truly love you. Have you? You really thought it was just . . . what? A schoolgirl crush? An adolescent fascination with the forbidden? The Slayer dating a vampire - the ultimate taboo, perfect for teenage rebellion."

"No!" he was moved to protest. "Buffy - " he groped for words. "I knew that you loved me. God, how could I not know it - when even after everything that happened when I lost my soul, you took me back and forgave me?"

"Because it wasn't you who did those things," Buffy said, with a touch of anger. "Why can't you accept that?"

"It was my body. My voice said all those terrible things to you." Angel held out his hands, palms up. "These are the hands that snapped Jenny Calendar's neck and arranged her body for Giles to find."

He stopped her angry retort. "I know it was the demon who was in control, not me, but at the time you were the only one who was able to make that distinction - because you loved me. God, yes, I knew."

Subsiding, Buffy listened as he went on. "But things change, Buffy. _People_ change - and even the strongest love can fade. It happens all the time; you know it does. I believed that if I left, your yearning for a normal life would eventually grow strong enough to overcome . . . the other feelings."

"You thought that I'd stop loving you?"

Angel ignored the pang that smote him at the thought. Evenly he said, "I thought that as time passed and you got used to my not being here, it would no longer be as important to you, and, yes, that you'd find someone else to love."

"You were wrong," she stated quietly.

"I know that now," he replied. "I'm sorry." Then, before the silence grew more awkward, he took another breath and got to his feet. "Buffy, there's something else - another reason why I left. A selfish reason, one I didn't even fully realize until today, when I was thinking about . . . everything."

Buffy's eyebrows rose a little, but she waited to hear more.

Turning and walking a few steps away, Angel plowed on. "I wanted to give you a chance for a longer life, but . . . there was also something I needed. I needed a chance at redemption."

Silence. Then, "You wanted to atone for everything _he_ did. Angelus." A frown of hurt puzzlement creased Buffy's forehead. "Okay, I guess I can understand that. As you said, it was your body that was used and unfortunately you share the memories of what Angelus used it for. But isn't that what you were doing by fighting here, with me? Weren't you already making amends?"

Angel stood still. "It wasn't enough." He turned to face her. "Buffy, Sunnydale already has you to fight the Hellmouth. And you don't really need my help."

"What?" Buffy was stung. "How can you say that? Angel, how many times did you protect me, when we were fighting and some big ugly was about to sink its teeth or a knife in me? You killed almost as many demons as I did."

"And after I left, you killed just as many without me," Angel interrupted. Buffy stared at him, shaken. "Didn't you," he persisted, gently. It wasn't a question.

"Do you have any idea how lost I felt without you?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"The first week of school I discovered a nest of vampires on campus," she whispered. "I fought the leader, a girl named Sunday. She whipped my ass, single-handed. I ran, Angel, as fast as I could with bruised ribs and an arm that I thought might be broken; and the whole time I was running I was praying that she wasn't coming after me and wishing you were there to back me up."

Angel was more perturbed than he let on. The image of Buffy turning tail and running away from a lone vampire was one he could hardly picture. "What happened? Or is the vamp - Sunday? - still running her campus nest?"

Buffy hesitated, then looked away. "Well . . . no," she finally said. "I, uh, went back a couple of nights later and . . . took care of it." The last words were mumbled.

Now Angel raised _his_ eyebrows. "You staked them? The entire nest?" When Buffy gave a reluctant nod, he raised them higher. "Alone?"

She flashed him an uneasy look and, even more reluctantly, nodded again.

Angel continued, quietly relentless. "Without my help. Without anyone's help."

Silence. He waited.

Buffy sighed. "All right; point taken. But just because I was able to take them on later doesn't mean that I couldn't have used your help the first time. And who knows how many people they killed in between?"

Angel sat next to her. "Buffy, I know you appreciated and maybe even relied on my help. But you didn't really _need_ it, not then or now. You're the Slayer, and a damn good one. All I was accomplishing here was a higher body count for demons. I needed to go someplace where I could actually help people."

"Someplace that didn't already have a Slayer," Buffy murmured. Her expression closed in. "I understand. Sunnydale can't offer the scope for redemption that L.A. does, it's true."

She got up again and went over to the window, where she stared out into the night, her back to him, forehead resting against the glass. "So what I'm hearing you _not_ say, is that even though you don't have to worry about losing your soul now, we're still not going to be together."

Her voice was flat, toneless, a sharp reminder of the defeated, apathetic Buffy he'd found in the otherworld the night before, the Buffy who'd found life too much to take anymore and was willing herself to die. Angel walked up behind her, so close that he could feel her heat.

"That's _not_ what I'm saying," he said firmly. "Buffy, you've only just found out about this. When you've had time to think about it, like I have, you'll realize that we can't just pick up where we left off two years ago. Too much has changed. We're not the same people we were then."

"I guess not." Her lone reflection showed clearly in the darkness of the window, and in it Angel saw a tear roll down her cheek. His heart twisted. He had to bend his head to hear her whisper.

"Just once I'd like to have a Hallmark ending."

He kissed the top of her head and gently turned her around. "Would you settle right now for a Hallmark moment?"

Another tear spilled onto her cheek. "Please," she whispered. Angel gently wiped the tears from her face, then leaned down. She closed her eyes as their lips met.

His kiss was like cool water following a long drought, refreshing her parched soul. She drank it in, and all the sore places in her heart, the doors she'd unknowingly slammed shut when he left, slowly opened again to receive the wonder of his touch, his love. She could feel it washing through her, a sparkling elixir, soothing the hard, dry cracks caused by his absence, softening the hurt.

Healing.

A soft little sigh escaped her, and she leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around Angel's waist and holding him tightly. Just before they kissed she'd wondered if, after being with Riley for so long, she'd have to get accustomed all over again to the lack of a heartbeat and body heat. The answer, she now discovered, was an emphatic "No."

The moment they touched it was as if Riley had never existed. She'd come home again. Her body remembered him - the coolness of his skin through his clothing, the icy burn of his lips, the muscular planes of his unbreathing chest, the solid waist beneath her arms . . . the firm pressure of his thighs against hers.

She deepened their kiss, instinctively rising up on her toes for better access, her arms relinquishing their hold on his waist and trailing upward to wind around his neck. Their mouths opened. Angel's tongue brushed hers. Soft. Tantalizing. Thrilling. She shivered with delight, and his arms tightened, pulling her closer. Her heart began to pound and she felt a tingling warmth between her legs.

When they finally pulled apart, Buffy was breathing hard and her blood was racing. She swallowed. "That hasn't changed."

'No," Angel agreed huskily, shaken by the speed with which their desire had roared to life with merely a kiss. "That will never change. We'll make it, Buffy. This time we'll make it work. I love you and I'm not going to lose you again."

They remained in each other's arms for another moment, then slowly separated. As they went over to the bed, Buffy suddenly frowned. "Angel, you said the original curse had a time limit?"

"Yes. The curse ended after one month." Then Angel's jaw dropped as realization hit. How could he have overlooked that? Well, he knew exactly how: all he'd been thinking about was the fact that no True Happiness clause existed; the time limitation hadn't even crossed his mind.

"One month?" Buffy exclaimed. "But if Willow's curse was the original one, how come you're still you? Why is your soul still here?"

Angel opened his mouth, closed it . . . and finally said, "I have no idea. Maybe the Powers That Be did . . . something?" He grimaced, realizing how lame that sounded, but he had nothing better to offer.

Buffy snorted. "That would be surprisingly helpful of Them."

Silently agreeing, Angel looked away and noticed the claddagh ring sitting on top of the nightstand, where he'd placed it after Joyce left.

Buffy followed his gaze. "What's that?"

Angel picked up the ring. "Willow found it in your jewelry box yesterday. She gave it to me when I got here last night and I - well, I put it on your finger. I thought it might help me bring you back. But you've lost so much weight, it slipped off while you were sleeping. Your mother found it and - "

She interrupted. "This is the ring that was in my jewelry box?"

"Yes." Why was she so upset? Was it because Willow looked through her belongings without her permission? Or was there another reason? Angel watched in confusion as Buffy turned away. He licked his lips nervously.

"Buffy, it's okay if you don't want to wear it again. I mean, I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. I understand that maybe it's too painful a reminder of everything that happened that year - "

Again she interrupted, still turned from him. "Angel, that's not the ring you gave me."

"What?"

"I don't have that ring anymore." She turned to face him. "Several months after - after I sent you to hell, I brought it to the mansion and put it on the floor where I stabbed you. I was . . . saying goodbye. I turned and walked away and that was the last time I saw it. This ring is one that I bought for myself, after you left Sunnydale."

"Why?" was all Angel could say. His mind whirled with disjointed thoughts and images. Foremost among them was the memory of flying/falling through a great distance and the impact as he landed, of his confusion as his tormented mind realized that his torturers had inexplicably vanished and he was lying on a cold, hard floor, naked as a babe and almost as weak.

Another image appeared: Buffy placing the ring he'd given her on the place where he'd been sucked into hell.

He paid only scant attention to Buffy's mumbled explanation of an impulse buy that she didn't really understand herself except that she had been feeling so lonely. Something was trying to penetrate the jumble in his brain.

_Acathla . . . his soul returning . . . the piercing of the sword . . . the vortex claiming him . . . hell . . . Buffy . . . the ring on the same spot . . . falling . . . finding himself back in the mansion. . . ._

Suddenly it all came together. "My God," he interrupted. He turned to her in a daze. "That's what brought me back. The ring."

"The ring brought you back from hell?" Buffy repeated. She blinked, adjusting to the change of subject.

"I know it sounds crazy," Angel began.

"Oh, I don't know," said Buffy judiciously. "No crazier than a fifteen-year-old girl discovering she's the Chosen One . . . or there suddenly being two Willows and one of them is a skanky vampire. Or, for that matter, no crazier than a Slayer and a vampire falling in love."

"True," Angel smiled. He reached out and caressed her cheek. "Buffy, remember the scorched outline on the floor of the mansion after I returned? That was where I landed. It's the same spot where you stabbed me, and you said that's where you put the ring."

She nodded.

"I think that somehow the ring changed places with me. Or, well, something like that, anyway," he finished, running out of steam a little.

Buffy looked thoughtful. "I did wear it the way you showed me – for the short time that I actually wore it." They exchanged a look that said everything without a word being spoken: the anguish and regret they shared about all that had happened when Angel lost his soul.

Buffy put her hand on Angel's chest, flat over his heart. Angel instantly flashed back to the Day That Never Happened, when she'd made the same gesture, only that day his heart had been beating. He swallowed, hard.

" 'If you wear it with the heart pointing toward your heart, it means you belong to someone'," she quoted softly. "That's what you told me, and I did. You were there, in my heart."

"As you were in mine," he murmured.

Her smile was misty. "The ring connected our hearts, Angel. Of course it brought you back to me."

He kissed her, gently, tenderly, then he said, ruefully, "But apparently it wasn't what brought _you_ back, since it's not the same ring."

"No," she murmured. "You did that all by yourself."

They kissed again, and his heightened senses were thrillingly aware of every spot where their bodies touched: of her shoulders beneath his palms; of the twin points of her breasts pressing against his chest; of her hands caressing his neck, pulling his head down to deepen the kiss.

"Buffy," he whispered, "this doesn't solve anything." But he made no move to pull away.

"Nope," she agreed, and promptly kissed him again.

"I mean," he gasped in between increasingly passionate kisses, "this isn't helping – "

"It's helping me," Buffy whispered, tightening her arms around him and pressing closer.

Angel forgot his misgivings and surrendered to their kiss. God, it was just like he remembered it in his dreams: hot and sweet, burning through him like fire, and more intoxicating than any liquor, so that the more they kissed the more he thirsted for the touch of her lips, her hands. He didn't realize they'd moved until he found himself sinking onto the bed with Buffy in his arms.

The sound of shattering glass jerked them apart. A vampire in full game face burst in through the window, a second vamp right on his heels. They paused, looking considerably startled. "Angelus!" the second vampire exclaimed. Taking advantage of their hesitation, Angel and Buffy instantly attacked.

"Wrong." Angel tackled the surprised vamp, crashing him against the wall. "The name's Angel."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first vamp fighting with Buffy. His attention quickly returned to his own opponent when, with an agile twist, the vampire slipped out of his hold and attached himself to Angel's back, with an arm around his throat as he tried to twist Angel's head around. He was strong, but Angel was stronger still.

He staggered toward the broken window, turned, and with unerring accuracy heaved the vamp straight through the opening. The vampire's shout of alarm broke off abruptly. Angel knew he hadn't killed it – after all, they were only two storeys* up – but with luck it had broken a leg or arm or sustained some other injury that would keep it out of the fight. He checked on Buffy.

She was doing her best, but he saw in a flash that she wasn't back to full Slayer strength. She'd managed to fend off the knife in the vampire's hand, keeping it from her throat, but couldn't throw off the vampire. Slowly, despite her best efforts, the long blade was descending, inch by inexorable inch.

"Buffy!" Angel lunged, hooking his arm around the vampire's neck and hauling back with all his strength. They went stumbling backward. Suddenly the vampire twisted around and before Angel could react, he stabbed him in the chest. As Angel gasped in shock and pain his attacker suddenly exploded in a shower of dust. The entire fight had lasted only a couple of minutes. He staggered back, slumping against the wall.

"Good thing Mom left her wooden letter opener here," Buffy panted. Her eyes fell on the spreading stain on Angel's shirt. "You're hurt!" She helped him into the chair, which he all but fell into.

"I'm all right," he gritted. Buffy flashed him an incredulous what-the-hell-are-you-saying look. "Buffy, we need to get you out of here. They might attack again."

Paying no attention to this, Buffy lifted his sweater and sucked in her breath in a loud hiss. She lifted an ashen face. "Angel, it missed your heart by less than an inch."

"It was a knife, not a stake," he said impatiently, trying to ignore the pain and the weakness spiraling through him. "Buffy, you have to leave. You're still weak and now I'm injured. We've got to find a safe place for you."

"And for you," Buffy added. "I'll call Giles." As she reached for the phone the door to her room suddenly flew open.

"What's going on in here?" demanded the nurse from the doorway. "Who's making all that noise?"

Her glance fell on the pile of dust that was all that remained of the vampire Buffy had destroyed, then flew to the shattered window. Her demeanor shifted from aggressive to confused and then to alarmed. "What in the world?"

Upon her entrance, Angel immediately turned so that his wound was out of her view. Buffy said, smoothly, "Something came through the window. When it landed on the floor it just disintegrated into that heap of dust there. Like a dirt clod." She dialed Giles' number.

The nurse only looked more puzzled. "A dirt clod? How could that break a window?"

Buffy shrugged. "Beats me." Her attention snapped to the phone. "Giles, it's Buffy. I'm leaving the hospital now. Would you please pick us up in front?"

She listened impatiently for a moment. "I'll explain when I see you. I need to call Mom now and tell her I'll be home before long." She hung up.

The nurse was gaping at her. "Ms. Summers, you can't leave the hospital now! It's the middle of the night." Angel glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 8:05.

Buffy looked at her. "Am I under arrest?"

"What?" The nurse was shocked. "Of course not, but – "

"Then I'm leaving. I assume there are papers I need to sign?" The nurse shut her mouth and nodded silently. "Then why don't you get those ready for me so I don't have to leave _without_ signing them? Because in five minutes I'm going to be out of here. I really don't feel safe in a place where people throw things through the windows."

The nurse looked helplessly from Buffy to Angel, who shrugged, then gritted his teeth against the pain that careless gesture cost him. It was taking all his concentration to remain upright in the chair. Throwing up her hands, the nurse left the room.

Buffy moved to Angel's side. "How are you doing?" She inspected the injury again. "I think it's stopped bleeding at least."

"Probably." They both were aware that vampires never bled for long; there simply wasn't enough blood in their systems. "Call your mother and then let's go."

Buffy picked up the phone and explained the basic situation to Joyce in a few terse sentences, then went over to the tiny closet. It was empty except for a long robe. Frowning, she walked over to the tiny dresser next to Angel and pulled open the drawers.

"Damn!"

"What?" With some effort, Angel focused his eyes.

"I don't have any clothes here." She gave a frustrated sigh, then stalked over to the closet again and put on the robe. "This'll just have to do."

She threw a few personal belongings into a plastic sack she found in a drawer, and helped Angel to his feet. "Can you walk?" she asked, concerned, as he swayed.

'Yes," he assured her grimly. Taking a deep breath, he summoned every ounce of strength and moved toward the door.

END OF PART SIX

***I've started using the British term "storey" to indicate the floors of a building, instead of our American "story"; I think the different spelling makes it easier to differentiate between the two (though, admittedly, the context should do that on its own). I have a few quirks like this, lol. *shrug***


	3. Chapter 3

**AN UNEXPECTED SONG, Chapter 3**

**(Sequel to "The Power Of Love"**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon, MutantEnemy, the WB, Fox, **

**A/N: This takes place in the spring of 2001, two years after Angel left Sunnydale. It's set in an alternate timeline from the shows, so none of the events of Season 5/Season 2 have happened. There is no Dawn, Joyce isn't ill, Darla wasn't brought back by Wolfram & Hart, etc.**

**A/N2: This is the final chapter. It was shorter than I'd remembered, and frankly nothing much happens except that Buffy and Angel finally get together. Hope you enjoy it.**

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Wait." Buffy retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair and helped him put it on, fastening it to cover the blood stain on his sweater.

"Thanks." Angel was chagrined; he'd completely forgotten about that.

At the nurses' station they were met by a delegation - the nurse who'd come into Buffy's room, her supervisor, and someone from the business office, each one of them urging Buffy to reconsider her "rash" decision to leave. The security guard, also there, only wanted the details of what had happened, which Buffy gave to him. He took off to inspect the scene.

Buffy cut short their protestations. "I'm going. I understand that it's against my doctor's recommendation. What do I have to sign?"

With tight lips and ill grace, the business office rep pushed a sheaf of papers toward her. Buffy glanced at them, turned to the last page, and signed, then turned to leave.

"Ms. Summers, wait!" the supervisor called. "We have to wheel you to the entrance." When Buffy started to argue, she said firmly, "Hospital regulations." She motioned to an aide hovering nearby to bring the wheelchair over.

Buffy sighed impatiently, but then brightened. "I'll agree only if I can sit on Angel's lap."

"What?" the supervisor sputtered. "Absolutely not." Buffy merely looked at her. The woman groaned loudly. "Oh, for – All right. You win. Again."

She gave a "come on" jerk of her head, and Angel sat down with concealed relief. Buffy sat on his lap, careful not to lean against his wounded chest, and the supervisor herself pushed them to the front doors, where they found Giles waiting for them – and also, to Buffy's surprise, Joyce.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Buffy asked as she got up. She extended a hand to Angel, who was frankly glad of the assistance. He managed to maintain a façade of normality until the supervisor had left, then almost collapsed against the wall. Buffy caught him before he fell.

"Angel!" Giles and Joyce exclaimed in unison.

"Giles, go bring the car around," Buffy told her Watcher. Giles didn't waste time asking for explanations; he sprinted for the parking lot. Buffy and Joyce together eased Angel onto a nearby planter box.

"What's wrong?" Joyce asked quietly.

Buffy unzipped the jacket, and Joyce sucked in her breath as the dark stain on his shirt became visible. Unlike Giles, she already knew about the attack; Buffy had told her over the phone. "One of the vamps stabbed him," Buffy said. "It barely missed his heart. He needs a place to recuperate."

"Angel, you're welcome to stay with us," began Joyce.

Angel shook his head weakly. "That's too dangerous – for Buffy. They know where she lives – "

"And they can't enter without an invitation," interrupted Buffy firmly. "Which isn't true of the mansion – is it?"

Angel couldn't argue with her logic. Since he wasn't technically alive, vampires had free access to any place he resided, such as the mansion. Just then Giles's car pulled up, and further conversation was suspended until they were safely inside and on their way. Then Buffy had to explain everything to Giles, from the beginning.

Giles nodded when she finished. "I agree with Buffy; her house is safer than the mansion. Although, I do have a guest room, Angel, and no vampires can enter my place either."

"No, Buffy cut in. "I need to rest too, and I won't be able to unless I know Angel is safe. If he's with you, Giles, I'd be worrying every minute that something had happened."

It occurred to Angel that he'd taken it for granted that wherever they went, they'd stay there together. The realization startled him. Were his concerns about resuming their relationship fading? Pushing that thought aside for later consideration, he reminded her, "Buffy, it's you they're after, not me." He was going to say more, but a sudden wave of pain took his voice away.

She turned sideways to look at him with that earnest expression he remembered so well. "Maybe at first. But now they know you're in town, and you're not exactly their favorite person either. What if they decide to try to get you out of the way too? You're injured, remember?"

"She's right." It was Joyce. "Angel, you're staying with us." Her tone brooked no argument. Angel smiled faintly and gave in.

As the car turned onto Revello Drive, Giles said, "Keep your eyes open, everyone. If the attack on Buffy really was part of a plan, rather than just, er, an isolated incident, it's just possible they might try to ambush her, and as Angel pointed out, they know where she lives."

The car crept slowly down the quiet street, with everyone straining to detect a stealthy movement, or a strange lurking shadow . . . anything that might indicate a possible attempt at an ambush.

Joyce had the keys ready in her hand, and when Giles turned into the driveway of their house, she leaped out and ran to the front door, wasting not a single motion as she unlocked it, stepped inside, and held it open. The others were slower, since Angel needed help getting out of the car.

Once inside they looked at one another rather sheepishly. "Well," Giles cleared his throat. "Better safe than sorry."

"Absolutely," agreed Buffy. "Angel, do you want to go up to your room now?"

Angel eyed the staircase. "I think I'd better rest a bit before tackling those stairs," he admitted. Buffy assisted him to the couch, which he sank into gratefully, though he refused to lie down.

"Angel, when did you last feed?" Giles suddenly asked.

Angel glanced sideways at Joyce and didn't answer. Seeing his discomfort, she said, "I think I'll go start a pot of coffee," and vanished into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Giles apologized at once. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just thinking that it might speed your recovery if you had some, er, nourishment." Angel had to concede that it would help. Giles nodded, then said, "I assume you have a supply at the mansion?"

"Never leave home without it," Angel replied with wry humor. "There's an ice chest in the kitchen with a couple of bags in it."

Giles retrieved his car keys from his pocket and took the key Angel handed him. "Right. I'll be back shortly."

Buffy and Angel spoke at the same time. "Be careful." "Take someone with you." Giles smiled at them. "Of course. I'll see if Ri - er, Xander can go with me." He left.

Buffy sat beside Angel. "How are you doing?"

"I've had worse," he told her, which was only the truth. "How about you?"

"I'm tired," she admitted.

Angel opened his good arm. "Come here." Buffy slid next to him with a sigh. When Joyce glanced into the room a few minutes later, she saw them cuddled together, Buffy's head on Angel's shoulder, his cheek pillowed on her head, both of them sound asleep.

She smiled, then sighed and looked pensive, hoping that this troubled relationship, and its participants, were finally getting the break it and they deserved. Then she returned to the kitchen to wait for Giles's return.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Buffy became aware, first, of her cheek pillowed on something cool and soft, yet muscular; and, second, of being held within an embrace that was achingly familiar. Still half asleep, she snuggled closer and absently ran her hand up over Angel's chest. His gasp of pain jerked her fully awake, stricken by remorse as she realized what she'd done.

"Oh, God, Angel, I'm sorry - I wasn't thinking." She looked at the stain on his sweater. "I didn't make it worse, did I?"

"Of course not," he assured her. "You just - startled me."

"I hurt you," she corrected bluntly, and reached out her hand. "Let me look. Please."

He smiled, a little amused. "If you want to. But you didn't hurt me, not really."

Buffy lifted the hem of his shirt until the injury on his breast was revealed, and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the wound was already beginning to heal and that her inadvertent caress had caused no further harm. Moved by a sudden impulse, she bent down and very gently kissed the gash.

Her action took Angel by surprise, and he gave a little gasp as her lips touched his skin. Buffy raised her head with a worried frown. "Did that hurt?"

Angel tried to answer, but his throat seemed paralyzed. Silently he shook his head, then watched mesmerized as Buffy leaned down and kissed his chest again, this time just above the cut . . . and then to one side of it . . . then on the other side . . . and above it again . . . and again. Each kiss sent a tiny electric tingle through his body. Finally he could bear no more. He pulled Buffy onto his lap, ignoring the shriek of protest from his wound.

Their kiss was long and, of course, passionate, because every time they kissed their passion ignited to some degree - but this time the flame stayed on simmer rather than flaring to high boil, even though her lips were warm and soft, and her body in his arms the fulfillment of years of aching, solitary dreams. Maybe it was because of his wound and Buffy's lingering weakness, but this time they were content just to enjoy the feeling and not push it to greater heights. The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted them, although it didn't part them.

"Excuse me." It was Giles, speaking from the entrance into the kitchen and sounding strangely formal. "I just wanted to let you know, Angel, that I have your ice chest here in the kitchen, any time you would like it. Er, there were no signs of any vampires at the mansion, by the way."

"I really should have something to . . . drink," Angel said, his lips still only inches away from Buffy's. Giles retreated back into the kitchen.

"You really should," she agreed. "It will speed up the healing."

"Yes." Still he didn't move - nor did she. "I don't want to let go of you," he discovered. "Not even for a minute."

"Me neither." They exchanged a long look, then Buffy gave him a tremulous smile and sat up with a sigh. "I'll bring it to you," she offered. Reluctantly he let her go, watching every step she took as she walked to the kitchen

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Her door was ajar. He closed it quietly behind him, and turned. Moonlight flooded the room, surprisingly bright yet somehow also gentle, blurring the contrast between its cool glow and the shadows created by objects in its path. Objects like the tree branch outside the window that thrust dark, wavering fingers into the silvery beam across her bed. Objects like his figure crossing that bright path when he walked over to the bed.

His shadow passed over her face, and she stirred, then, as he sat on the edge of the bed, awoke. "Angel?" Her voice was fuzzy with sleep.

"Yes." He could see her blinking, forcing herself to wake more fully.

"Is anything wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I've been thinking."

Two days had passed since they'd come to Buffy's house, during which both of them had almost fully healed. A bit of soreness remained from Angel's injury, but not enough to hamper his movements, as he'd demonstrated earlier that evening in a training session with her - a session that ended with Buffy flat on the floor, pinned there by his weight. She could have thrown him off - they both knew it - but instead she'd looked into his eyes and the next thing he knew they were kissing.

How far things might have gone remained in the realm of the unknown, since Xander and Giles had interrupted them to let them know they were going to Willy's Place to seek information on the vamps who'd attacked Buffy. No further attempts had been made on her life after she left the hospital. When they returned they'd reported that Willy had only looked blank when asked about a plot to kill the Slayer and had given them none of his usual bluster, so apparently it had been an isolated attempt after all.

"About what?" Buffy turned slightly to see him better. In the moonlight her eyes looked even larger than usual, shadowed and mysterious.

"About us." One of her hands lay across the extra pillow, palm up. Angel placed his hand over it, twining his fingers in hers. Her skin was warm, of course, and slightly damp. They'd talked about many things during his stay there, things both good and bad.

A few old hurts had been reviewed, many past joys remembered. At times the atmosphere had grown tense with resentment and anger, and tears had been shed - but apologies had also been given and accepted, on both sides, as well as explanations that helped clear up misunderstandings.

One of the subjects discussed had been the Day That Never Was. Much to Angel's surprise, Buffy had accepted the fact of its existence without much persuasion. She'd also understood his reasons for going to the Oracles to have them take back his humanity, although she wasn't nearly as accepting of the Higher Beings' solution. At least, not part of it.

_"They were wrong," she'd flatly stated. "We could both have remembered. Knowing what was at stake, we wouldn't have repeated the same . . . events."_

_"You were crying just before it happened," he'd told her. "Asking me how you could go on with your life, knowing what we could have had. It would have been too painful, Buffy."_

_Her chin had firmed in that stubborn gesture he remembered so well. "Only at first," she'd replied. "But later I would have had the joy of remembering what we'd had. They had no right to take that from me."_

"What were you thinking about us?" she asked him now. Her breath came a little faster now as hope began to rise, and Angel could hear the increase in her heartbeat. She began stroking his hand with her thumb.

"I was thinking that I need to go back soon, to L.A. And I was thinking that maybe you could come with me, just for a few days. And then maybe I could come back here the next weekend, or whenever I could make it."

Buffy sat up, throwing the bed covers off. Even at this intense moment Angel spared a mental smile at the memory of the ridiculous pyjamas he'd seen her in at various times. The black-and-white ones that made her look like a petite Holstein calf in an XL skin sprang instantly to mind.

Tonight she had on a thin tank top made of T-shirt fabric, and matching sleep shorts. Blue, he thought, though it was hard to tell in the pale light. Her breasts were plainly outlined by the clinging fabric. A definite improvement.

"Funny," she murmured, bringing his attention back from the past. "I was thinking the same thing, earlier; that we could take turns commuting, so to speak."

"Right now I don't see another solution."

"Neither do I." She slid closer. He could feel her warmth now.

Angel took a deep breath. "You have to be here in Sunnydale, just as I'm needed in L.A."

"Yes." Now she stayed where she was, watching him, her eyes shining. She raised his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and placed a soft kiss in the palm.

Angel licked his lips. "But there's no reason that we can't - " His words ended in a gasp as her tongue flicked out and brushed his palm.

'No reason at all," she breathed, and pulled his head down.

The instant their lips touched, all words fled Angel's mind. All that existed was this moment and the softness of her lips and the heat rising from her body as her heart sped up. Then he was lying beside her and they were kissing again, and her hands were caressing his chest and shoulders and back, and even through the T-shirt he was wearing her touch inflamed him. He felt a rush in his groin, felt himself begin to thicken, and marveled at how quickly she could arouse him.

His own hands weren't idle. He caressed her back, her shoulders, cupped her head between his hands for a deeper kiss, then trailed one hand down her neck and over her breasts, stroking her buttocks. He sought and found the heat between her legs, and began pressing against it.

She made a little sound and pulled away just long enough to tug his shirt off and allow him to do the same with hers before launching herself against him, pressing close, inserting her leg between his so that her thigh gently and rhythmically nudged his growing erection.

It was Angel's turn to make a sound, in his case a soft groan. He held her tightly and rained kisses on the smooth column of her neck, following it to her silky shoulders, then down to her shadow-tipped breasts. He took one deep in his mouth, suckling it gently, rolling his tongue over the satin tip and feeling it slowly contract to a pebble-roughness. Releasing it, he drew back and admired the glistening nipple, standing out as hard and erect as he was becoming. He bent his head to her other breast.

Buffy clutched at his head, pressing it closer, and closed her eyes. How could she have forgotten this, even for a moment much less for two years? But then she knew that she hadn't forgotten anything, not the magic of his cold kisses, or the passion that his slightest touch inspired, nor the completion she felt just being in his presence.

No, she'd merely pushed the memories away, chosen not to remember them, any of them. Because if she hadn't she never could have gone with Riley, and then where would her "normal" life have been?

Angel's tongue worked her nipple, each motion sending a thrill shooting along some unknown connection directly to her groin. Blood rushed to engorge sensitive tissues, swelling them and making them even more sensitive. Angel's hand pressed between her legs in a rhythmic, caressing motion, and she gasped out loud.

Feverishly she kissed the top of his head, the only part of him she could reach at the moment, for he stubbornly refused to relinquish her breasts, moving back and forth from one to the other. His tongue brushed and probed, again and again.

His hand crept beneath her pyjama shorts and knew just the right spot to touch and the right amount of pressure to apply. He tugged her shorts off, urging her legs apart, and one long cold finger slid inside her and then out again, using her own moisture to lubricate his caress of her already throbbing nub. She trembled as each gentle stroke sent lightning through her.

The blood sang in her ears; her breath faltered. "Angel!" she cried out. "Oh God!" And then the explosions began, deep inside her womb first and expanding upward and outward until her entire body convulsed in orgasm. Blindly she arched and shook and gasped, and just as the tremors began to subside and she was beginning to catch her breath, Angel yanked off his sweatpants, rose to his knees and lifted her onto his lap, impaling her on his rock-hard length - and it started all over again.

Angel groaned out loud. How could he ever have left her, left this completion, this other half of his soul? He'd intended to draw out their lovemaking, make it something they'd never forget . . . long hours of slow hands and tender, burning caresses, so that their passion would build gradually, each touch, each kiss heightening the intensity, deepening the fire, until at long last they would reach the peak.

But the reality of being with her in her bed, the never-forgotten feel of her naked body soft and silky and hot against his bare chest and the scent of her arousal in the air . . . it was overpowering. Before he'd quite known what was happening, his sweatpants were on the floor, Buffy was on his lap, and he'd buried himself to the hilt in her steamy depths, shaking with the intensity of his need.

He heard her cry out again. Her hot, wet tissues clenched around his erection as another orgasm claimed her, sweeping him along with it.

His groan rang through the room, echoed by hers. Flames raced through his body, and he crushed her to him, burying his face in her neck and holding her in place as tightly as she held him, so that his involuntary thrusting only pushed him deeper within her body, where his barren seed spewed forth.

It was a long time before either of them moved, floating as they were in a sea of complete and utter satiation. Without changing position, they held each other. Buffy rested her head on Angel's shoulder, one arm draped around his neck, her legs wrapped loosely around his hips. Dreamily he stroked her hair, smiling to himself as he carefully avoided the bristly patch around her old injury.

Actually, it wasn't that bristly anymore. Apparently her healing ability also included her hair, for it was growing at a phenomenal rate. Less than three weeks after her injury, the shaved area already sprouted a growth of almost two inches. It looked pretty strange, he had to admit, but at least it had stopped Buffy from talking about getting a "butch" cut. Instead, she planned to cut the rest of her hair chin-length until the new growth caught up.

Finally Buffy sighed. "That was . . . unbelievable." Her voice was husky.

"Mmm," Angel murmured in drowsy agreement, still stroking her hair with long, lazy sweeps.

Another period of silence, then, "I'm sure glad my mom is out of town for the night."

Angel laughed, breaking the mood. Grinning, Buffy tilted her head just enough to see his face, then she too broke into laughter. "We _were_ a little loud," Angel admitted.

"Mmm," was all Buffy said, mimicking his earlier response, but then she gave a contented sigh and put her head back on his shoulder, absently caressing his chest. He was still buried in her body. A moment later she said, "Angel?"

"Hmm?"

She gave a slow, sultry wiggle of her hips. "You're still hard."

He smiled a little smugly. "I know."

"Is that . . . normal? For vampires, I mean?"

"Not that I know of."

"Oh. Is it normal for you, then?"

Angel chuckled. "Only under the right conditions."

"Oh." A beat. "What conditions?"

Angel tilted up her chin and gave her a kiss. "You."

She smiled happily and nestled against him. "Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"It seems a shame to let it go to waste."

"It does," he solemnly agreed. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Buffy straightened up. Without speaking she gently pushed him down onto his back, never losing their connection. "I have a few ideas."

"I thought you might," Angel murmured. She leaned toward him. He lifted his face slightly in anticipation, closing his eyes. When the expected kiss didn't come, he opened them again in surprise. She was gazing down at him with an unreadable expression in her glorious eyes.

"I love you," she said quietly.

He couldn't speak for a moment, his throat tight with swelling emotion. "I love you too."

Their lips met. Tomorrow they would face the new day, with all its changes and joys and, yes, problems. But that was tomorrow. Tonight was theirs.

THE END

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**A/N: That's all of this one, folks. I'm pretty sure I don't have a sequel to it, though I do have other fics I'll be posting. But I'm going to take a short break first; I need to go through my files and remember just what I've got, lol. Also, my hands need a break from the keyboard, and these old stories need a lot of cleaning up, since the formatting codes show up when I transfer them. Many thanks to everyone who left reviews; that is really appreciated.  
**


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